Go Together
by BlondeChick2009
Summary: "It had taken Castiel the better part of a month to accept that Dean Winchester was now a demon. After that, he let it go. He ignored all demons. Until, one day, while he was lying on the breeze, her blip reappeared." Set after season 9.


**A/N: My only Supernatural fic ever. I don't know why I've never tackled writing for a show that's been my life for nearly 10 years, but there you have it. Inspired by my love for Castiel and the fact that I really, really miss Meg.**

**..**

It had taken Castiel the better part of a month to accept that Dean Winchester was now a demon.

After that, he let it go. Something seemed to have crumbled inside; something worse than when all those souls had wreaked havoc on his body. He could not face the pain of Dean's Fall, so he stepped away.

He did not follow the trail of chaos the newborn demon left behind. He did not answer Sam's prayers; quite possibly the thing that made him feel most guilty about running away.

Sam was utterly alone; unable to register what had happened. He had simply left Dean's body to summon Crowley, and then had returned to an empty bed. He was still hunting.

And still Castiel did not come. He flew askance on the wind. He ignored the blips of petty evil his old ward was causing left and right, he ignored the anguished pleas of the ignorant brother.

He ignored all demons.

Until, one day, while he was lying on the breeze, her blip reappeared.

..

In a derelict house on an overgrown hill, she lay on an old bed, aware of the irony of her chosen setting. A broken thing in a broken house; a demon haunting the mansion on the moors.

Meg was wide awake, but the girl's body was still struggling. She hadn't known the name of the person she chose after Meg Masters was no longer available to her. Meg smiled, feeling pain erupt around the meat suit's mouth. She stopped smiling.

The demon had never had a name before she became Meg. She didn't remember who she had been as a human, all those centuries ago. All she knew was that she was young by demon standards, she was now called Meg, and that she had become mixed up in an astonishing battle between good and evil she had never thought possible. The Winchesters and the angel. Her angel, she thought possessively for a heartbeat. She clenched her phantom fingers and felt the human's fingers move. She set to work.

..

An hour later, Meg had made some progress. She had full control of her hands and feet, and was beginning to get arms and legs to move. As she continued healing the ravaged body, she thought about what had woke her up after what she could only guess as months of nonexistence.

Dean Winchester, that free will driven, Sword of the Angels, crusader against demon scum, was now a demon himself. The shock of feeling his presence enter the Hell Spawn wavelength had snapped her out of her nothingness. Her left leg bent at the knee and Meg laughed through the pain.

Or maybe something else had stirred her, and Dean's new status as Crowley's bitch had simply been the ice water that had jolted her conscious.

Her right leg bent jerkily as Meg remembered Crowley's role in her temporary death. Her face, and the human's face, scowled at the moldering ceiling above. She sat up and leaned against the head board. Somehow, Crowley would pay.

..

Minutes or hours passed with shut eyes and concentrated efforts on healing her internal wounds. A familiar rush of invisible wings finally pulled her from her struggle.

"Hey there, Clarence," she croaked, wincing at her raw voice.

Castiel turned from the grimy window and looked at her. "Meg, you're alive."

"Brilliantly done, as always." The corner of the angel's mouth tweaked. "I see you are, too," she watched him closely. "But…"

"Only just," he completed as though they were discussing a science project. Meg frowned, ignoring the dull burn on her skin.

"Your grace—it's strange."

Castiel looked down and pulled at the lapel of his trench coat. "It's stolen."

Meg's eyebrows went up. "My, oh my. You never cease to surprise me, Clarence."

Castiel sat down on the bed, fingers laced and elbows on his knees. "It's a Wonderful Life."

"Someone's been studying. Somehow, I don't think you mean that literally."

She watched his shoulders sag and felt a fleeting twinge, somewhere in her jaw. Castiel was breaking before her, not unlike when Lucifer had been chewing on his soul.

"It's going to be okay, Cas," she said firmly. "We can fix this."

"And when will we not have to fix something, Meg? When will everything just start okay and end okay?"

Silence followed his outburst. She watched one of his hands slide through his hair. "Well, don't count on me for an answer. Perpetual pessimist, remember?"

A low laugh escaped the angel's lips. The sound was as strained as it was momentary. "I ruined everything, again, Meg. I can't seem to stop ruining things."

"Cas…"

"When I got here," he turned to face her, eyes shiny, "When I got here, everything was black and white. It was demons and angels, good and evil…"

"PB&J, milk and cookies," she supplied as he faltered. He shook his head.

"It was follow the orders or disobey. It wasn't supposed to mix. It wasn't meant to go together."

He frowned and reached over to touch her hand. "I wasn't supposed to care that you are hurt."

Meg didn't know what to say. Her first reaction was to flinch away from his holy touch, to cringe—if only to acknowledge that she was not worthy of his godly sentiment. But she let his hand hold hers. He continued before she could find her wits.

"And now, I feel confused, disoriented, uncertain…"

"Human." She held his eyes as he nodded. "Welcome to the club," she whispered.

"Before I can even try to fix myself, before I can find my grace—I need to make sure that you're okay."

"You don't need to waste your time on me, not when," she hesitated. "Not when other people need you."

He knew where she had been going with the declaration. But he shook his head all the same. "I need to take care of you, first and foremost."

"Why?" She asked, slightly sharper than she meant.

"Because you took care of me when you didn't have to."

"To save my own skin," she muttered too quickly and too halfheartedly. The angel smiled, and something dark and unimportant seemed to wither away inside her.

"Well, I couldn't let anything hurt my angel," she finally murmured.

"Your angel," Castiel repeated, wonderingly, under his breath. "Should I call you my demon?"

Meg shifted closer. "Oh, I think you have demons enough, Clarence." Castiel closed his eyes, and she ran light fingertips over his lashes. "I can see them, right in here."

Meg dropped her hand, and his blue, fathomless eyes reopened. "Why don't you call me…your friend?"


End file.
